


A Little Bit Of Tooth And Nail

by Interrobang



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Bottom Jesse McCree, Double Penetration, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, PWP, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: PWP: Hanzo turns into a dragon seemingly without reason. McCree is very sincerely intrigued.





	A Little Bit Of Tooth And Nail

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad to finally finish and post this! I hope you all enjoy it. It's literally just shameless porn. There's not even a shred of plot. ( ᐛ )و
> 
> HUGE thanks to UzbekistanRules for betaing this and helping me through a tremendous bout of writer's block. I couldn't have done it without you.

There’s a pack of agents after him. McCree’s lured them away from the open with spurs intentionally jangled loudly, drawn them into a trap. It’s something he’s done plenty of times before, usually with backup sniping somewhere behind him. In fact, Hanzo would usually be his go-to on this. 

 

But Hanzo’s scatter fire requires a bit of distance between McCree and his targets, and on this particular jaunt McCree just doesn’t have it. The leader of the pack after him gets too close, knocks the wind out of him. McCree is almost around the edge of a corner when the first assailant snatches the edge of his serape and grips tight, choking him on his own protective wear. 

 

In that split second of failure, the rest of them swarm him like insects at an unattended picnic table. In the scuffle McCree’s serape gets thrown over his face, his many straps and belts yanked at violently until he’s on the ground searching for anything he can use to free himself. Hanzo will be there soon, he knows, but air is a mighty precious commodity when you can’t get your hands on it. 

 

It’s over in a second. On one side of the moment he’s blind and aspirating dirt, and the next-- the next he hears Hanzo’s voice reverberating through the building before heat, bubbling and quick, rushes over him. The force of it stings through every thread of his being like a boiling spring, scalding him until he can’t tell what’s rough and what’s kind. 

 

When he comes to, he’s curled in the middle of a bloody tangle: a massive dragon, an ethereal blue whose glow is fading to steel tones. There’s carnage around them, ankle deep at the most shallow, and McCree’s brain has a fuzz on it that just won’t quite clear.

 

They clean him up, and go through briefing. Hanzo is worryingly sedate through all of this. He looks on the verge of sleeping, but clings to McCree in a way that would be funny if he weren’t so huge. 

 

It makes McCree nervous. The two of them spent months dancing around each other, revealing slips of personality here and there until something between them clicked, wove together into something stable. Before they knew it, they found themselves leaning on each other on and off the field. They’ve made it a habit to lean literally after a fight, pressed side to side in the bench seats of the ship as they fly back to the watchpoint. 

 

Now, the creature McCree can only identify as Hanzo is huge and warm and steely blue, curled up in the cargo area of the ship and keeping one sleepy eye on McCree. The dragon has been resistant to any distance between them, growling when Mercy tried to take McCree off to the side to examine him further.

 

“Is this what’s been going on lately?” McCree murmurs into the humid dark of the hangar. They landed an hour ago, but Hanzo hasn’t moved. “You thought you had something to hide?”

 

Hanzo won’t look him in the eye, instead turning his massive head and tucking it into the curve of his long body. His spine bristles with agitation. A single rumble of thunder rolls in the distance, and McCree wonders, for the first time, about the name Hanzo gave his weapon: Storm Bow. Is there any relation?

 

McCree is exhausted. He can feel the tension growing between them, taut like Hanzo’s bowstring, then tighter even than that as the silence sits thick in their suite when McCree finally coaxes Hanzo out of the hangar. Hanzo barely fits through the doorway, almost crushes most of their furniture just by trying to shuffle himself into a compact twist in the middle of their bedroom.

 

“It’s fine, y’know,” McCree says, quietly removing his armor. He sets Hanzo’s weapons down in the corner, tries not to think about where the hell Hanzo’s clothes have gone in the transformation. When he turns around, there’s a huge dragon sulking on the other side of the room.

  
“ _ Really _ ,” McCree insists. “It’s fine. If I’d known, I’d’ve made fewer ‘consumed by the dragon’ jokes last night. This ain’t a problem, hon.” 

 

Hanzo look at him obstinately. The tip of his long tail twitches. McCree rolls his eyes. He struggles out of his chaps and pants while he keeps talking, eyes the reachable laundry piles for something half-clean to wear.

 

“Alright, so it’s not the most  _ convenient  _ thing to ever happen to us. But hey-- it can’t be worse than me losing my hand up your ass.”

 

That startles something out of Hanzo: a giant barking noise, grating and sharp. McCree breaks down into laughter, too, tears prickling at his eyes. “That was a hell of a night.” He pats Hanzo on the side and wipes the moisture away, grinning widely when Hanzo finally uncurls his body and rubs the side of his scaley face along McCree’s shoulder. His cheekbones are sharp--literally-- and ridged with thick blue scales. McCree can practically see the laughter in Hanzo’s golden eyes. He pats him affectionately and turns to survey Hanzo in his entirety.

 

“Never seen you like this, sweetheart,” McCree says with a laugh. “I mean, the scales are new, obviously, but look at you.” He runs a hand down Hanzo's massive ribcage, fingers dragging over the ridges of blue scales. “You're so...relaxed.”

 

Hanzo huffs a soft whoosh of warm air out his snout. He shakes his head and stretches in a wave all down the length of his long, powerful body. He's huge, easily filling their small bedroom, and McCree is stunned by his sheer  _ mass _ . He's seen Hanzo’s spirit beasts in action, but those are  _ supposed  _ to be huge. They’re  _ spirits _ . But an actual, literal dragon? Perhaps McCree would have expected something dense and strong, sure-- after all, Hanzo is just as heavily muscled when human-- but 15 feet long and almost to the roof of their room? Nah.

 

Hanzo twists to nose insistently at McCree’s shoulder, rubbing his coarse mane over McCree’s bare back and nipping gently at his side. McCree laughs and pets the sides of his face affectionately.

 

“Alright, alright. Watch it, bud. I'm a mite more delicate than you right now.” Hanzo huffs a laugh, and McCree can all but hear Hanzo comment about how McCree could hardly ever count as  _ delicate.  _

 

Hanzo’s weight is enough to actually move McCree, and he stumbles a little under his mass. Hanzo rumbles deep in his cerulean chest-- a possessive, amused noise, made all the louder by the seclusion of their rooms and proximity to each other. McCree can feel it through his skin when it’s pressed against him, warm and deep like the rumble of summer thunder, and he pushes his palms against Hanzo’s side in wonder. His skin is smooth but for the texture of scales like shingles of stained glass, and warm to the touch. McCree hums appreciatively, and the room is momentarily filled with their contentment.

 

“You have any idea how long you’ll be like this, sweetpea?” McCree asked absentmindedly, running a hand along Hanzo’s flank. “You gonna come back before dinner time, or are we gonna have to order in tonight?” He smirks, one corner of his mouth jerking up in amusement. “I don’t reckon anyone’d appreciate you at the table right now.”

 

As if offended, Hanzo draws himself up, pointed chin high and eyes haughty. He pulls his long, angular limbs in, tucking one paw over the other in a way that reminds McCree of how he crosses his legs as a human.

 

Hanzo snorts, and McCree swears he smells just the faintest hint of ozone on it. 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, pal, we’ll figure this out.” McCree pats his side. “What do you want to do for now?”

 

Hanzo turns his massive head to look around the room. There’s the bed, a bookshelf, and their belongings scattered about, evidence of their hectic lives. A small television screen is perched on the desk across from the bed, aimed such that the two of them can watch a movie without getting up on their lazier days. Hanzo gestures at it now, tossing his head in its direction before moving to curl around McCree. 

 

McCree shuffles in place as Hanzo winds his long body around the perimeter of the room. He’s as thick as an elephant ight now, and he nearly blocks McCree’s view of the television while he’s standing. 

 

“Dunno if you’ll fit on the bed like that, sweetpea,” McCree considers. “Maybe we should get comfy on the floor?”

 

In answer, Hanzo swipes one massive clawed paw out and pulls McCree close to him. It leaves McCree hunched over a little, Hanzo rumbling behind him and a clawed arm wrapped around his front. McCree shouts in surprise when Hanzo suddenly rolls over so that McCree is laying on his huge, scaley chest.

 

McCree laughs nervously. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but alright.”

 

Hanzo keeps nuzzling, even while McCree struggles to keep up his plans of turning on a movie. He sniffs and huffs behind him, nipping gently with teeth that could kill with a twitch. 

 

“What,  _ now  _ you wanna play?” McCree swats at Hanzo’s snout, kicks his leathery side ineffectively with one heel. “You were such a sourpuss on the plane.”

 

McCree has to fight back a yelp when he feels the massive, wet slide of Hanzo’s tongue over his back. It’s rough like a cat’s tongue, but the forked tip is silky soft where it flickers over his throat. He laughs a little bit, shifting in Hanzo’s grip.

 

The movie starts, and Hanzo calms down a little bit. Being in their room seems to soothe him. He even starts to look sleepy. McCree carefully plays with his toe beans, looking at the structure of his claws. He thinks of Hanzo’s nails, so carefully kept. Some of them are usually worn down from use alone, but Hanzo maintains his hands well. Gone now are the callouses and most of the scars, leaving only leather-tough pads and razors.

 

He runs his exploration up Hanzo’s arms, checking out his joints. 

 

“Angela’d have a field day with you, if you let her,” McCree comments, rubbing at the black, leathery pads. “Rein, too, come to think of it. Hey, can you fly?” 

 

Hanzo snorts, but hey-- that’s not really an answer, is it? 

 

McCree feels Hanzo shift under him as he stokes absentmindedly, happily cradled in the swell of Hanzo’s muscled torso. By the time McCree has worked his way down Hanzo’s ridged shoulders and over the rising mountain of his spine to Hanzo’s hips, Hanzo is flopped out languorously on his side, legs splayed. His breaths are deep and long, harsh on the exhale, and when McCree looks up, Hanzo’s eyes are heavily lidded and looking right at him. There’s some trepidation there, but mostly a deep calm and a glint of mischief. 

 

An inkling of an idea starts to form in McCree’s belly. He kisses at the pads of Hanzo’s feet-- unabashedly enjoying the soft texture against his chapped lips-- then strokes over his snout and kisses his face, his ears, his antlers. Reacquaints himself with Hanzo’s body. Lets him know that he’s still there, still loves him. Hanzo practically purrs and he spreads his legs a little when McCree pets at the base of his antlers and around the hinge of his jaw. Again he growls, licks a little bit, and pulls McCree closer. 

 

McCree is practically crushed into the belly of his beast, oversized claws pulling against his soft human flesh so the dragon can keep him close. McCree wiggles in his grip and resumes his hands’ path down Hanzo’s body. 

 

Hanzo’s breath is coming quick, now, humid and faintly acrid in the small room. It takes McCree a minute, but then-- it clicks. One of Hanzo’s massive hind legs twitches and then...he sees it.

 

There’s a slit down at the base of Hanzo’s tail. It’s a delicate little thing, demure and neatly arranged. Hanzo’s tail muscles bunch around it, twitching as his body tries desperately to hide its needs. The attempts are in vain, because...well, Hanzo is clearly aroused. The slit-- his vent, his blooming core-- is wet and red, with a faint bulge just peeking out. The head is tapered, but wide, and a dangerous dark blue. McCree can just about make out throbbing veins down the shaft of it, with a line of scales running up the underside. 

 

“Well, well,” McCree purrs, a poor imitation of Hanzo’s own rumbling. “This ain’t so bad, huh?” He wiggles his way out of Hanzo grip. Surprisingly, Hanzo lets him go. One astute golden eye follows McCree as he makes his way down Hanzo’s body, one hand trailing over his heaving belly as he goes. 

 

McCree pauses when he gets to Hanzo’s massive hindquarters. He eyes the cock in front of him hungrily, staring at it as it emerges, slick and shiny, from its intimate hiding place. It takes a good portion of McCree’s willpower not to tear his clothes off, instead savoring the slide of cloth over his skin, of Hanzo’s eyes and claws following him as he disrobes. 

 

He’s about to reach out for it when Hanzo rumbles and demurely moves his legs to hide himself. McCree laughs a little-- Hanzo is being uncharacteristically shy. 

 

“C’mon, now,” McCree chuckles. “Didn’t take you for a wilting flower, sunshine.”

 

That earns him an indignant huff and a bit of teeth on his side before Hanzo’s pulling him back towards his front. McCree goes, but he eyes the shadow between Hanzo’s legs with envy. 

 

“What, you don’t want to--?” McCree pushes against Hanzo’s arms a little bit, thinking that hey, maybe he just needs a little convincing. But then Hanzo’s teeth are back. His breath is inhumanly hot and humid and faintly smokey, like embers at the bottom of a burnt-out pile of tinder. It settles something liquid and powerful in McCree’s stomach, gives him pause. He raises one hand to Hanzo’s snout, laughs and joins it with the other hand when Hanzo bares his jagged teeth just a bit. He pets down the leathery length of him all the way to his mane and then pauses, arm resting over the bridge of his snout. Hanzo’s eyes are huge and luminous and staring at him just as piercingly as ever. 

 

There’s a moment of silence-- of hesitation-- before one of them breaks it. Hanzo is the first to move, his jaw opening and a long, forked, slick tongue sliding out. It flickers over McCree’s side, practically in his armpit. It’s all of him that he can reach, with McCree’s arm thrown over his mouth, but it sets him rumbling in approval all the same. 

 

“Is it any different?” McCree asks. “All the-- the tasting and smells and all that.”

 

Hanzo’s tongue flickers out again, a little pink-grey flash in the light coming through their bedroom window. He makes a sound-- a kind of indecisive sound, a little bit of a whine-- then firmly sticks his snout in McCree’s side. McCree can feel the air flowing past him as Hanzo inhales deeply. And then the tongue flickers out, and Hanzo growls happily, and his leg twitches just enough that McCree can see the meaty head of his cock poking out from the shadows. 

 

He pets Hanzo’s mane again, scratching between his antlers and smiling widely when it makes Hanzo’s throat reverberate with a long, drawn-out animal groan. Hanzo’s head is butting into his whole body now, his teeth nipping at a round thigh or the meat of one bicep. The bites are soft, playful, barely enough to leave a red mark. It’s actually, somehow, gentler than Hanzo would be with his blunt human teeth. McCree thinks he likes this quite a bit. It’s attractive, this animal instinct. Hanzo is huge and deadly, could eviscerate him without a thought-- but he’s reined in all that power just to play with McCree.

 

The biting tapers off into gentle presses of Hanzo’s nose to McCree’s side, where he can feel him whuffing at his neck, his back, the split of his legs. The last one makes McCree jump and laugh nervously, fending him off with a hand delicately placed over his nether region. 

 

“Hey hey hey!” McCree splutters. “That’s-- that’s downright  _ indecent _ , Hanzo. Some things are just rude.” 

 

Hanzo laughs. It’s a deep rumble, a cracking like an old tree swaying towards the ground. It makes McCree’s bones shake to hear it-- then settle when Hanzo’s tongue flickers out again. The tiny forked tip of it flickers just beyond McCree’s chest, millimeters from skin contact. The movement makes McCree’s breath stutter, and he holds utterly still. 

 

One of Hanzo’s giant arms sweeps him off his feet, and then Hanzo is snuffling at his skin, his long, long tongue swiping over McCree’s body. He drags it up the side of McCree’s neck, to the little hiding place behind the curve of his ear. Hanzo huffs his approval at the taste and nips at his ear. The dragon’s breath is roaringly loud at that close proximity. Pressed this close to Hanzo’s body, McCree can feel the hot bellows of his chest rising and falling as he breathes in McCree’s scent and apparently finds it to his liking. The tongue trails down his body, and McCree is helpless to do anything but arch into it. Hanzo’s claws cup him delicately, but they’re still sharp, pinpoints digging into his thighs where Hanzo’s half-paws grip him. 

 

McCree is hard and aching by the time Hanzo’s worked his way down to his groin. His cock bobs, red and wet in the warm air between their two bodies. McCree isn’t sure if he wants to lean into the touch or hide himself away. Hanzo’s tongue is long and vaguely rough and-- and prehensile, holy shit. The sensations alone are almost enough to undo him.

 

Hanzo downright purrs when McCree’s hips move minutely, a pearl of pre welling up at the tip of his cock. McCree groans and arches when that tongue wraps around and around him, glistening and pinkish gray and  _ tight-- _

 

“Lord Jesus fucking  _ Christ _ ,” McCree pants, fist tightening over the ridge Hanzo’s jaw. His hips stutter and shake as Hanzo’s tongue undulates and squeezes him. His hands clench in Hanzo’s mane, gripping the silky white fur tightly as if the action might stave off the climax that’s sneaking up on him at a hundred miles an hour. Hanzo’s breath whooshes out of the cavern of his mouth and flows over McCree’s stomach and trembling thighs.

 

Between wraps and right at the end McCree can see his cock poking out. Large though he is, his dick is dwarfed by the hugeness of Hanzo’s draconic maw. Every stroke and squeeze milks a little more pre out of his cock, until his pubes are a mess of dripping wet fluids.

 

McCree rolls his hips and moans as he’s held in place by strong claws, unable to get any leverage or reciprocate in any manner. His fingers dig into Hanzo’s snout, pressing into the creases between each plate-armor scale and shuddering. His eyes are half-closed, barely focused on the dark locus between his legs where wet schlicks and slurps abound.

 

When he glances up in a daze, he can see Hanzo’s legs have spread again, thighs tensed as Hanzo bobs his head and cradles McCree in his large forearms. There, nestled in a pretty patch of cerulean scales, is the biggest cock McCree has ever seen. It’s fully out of its sheathe now, fat at the bottom and wickedly curved. A smaller nub peeks out just behind it-- testicles?-- rounded and just as dark a blue as the cock on display. The length of it lays fat and hard against Hanzo’s leathery belly, dripping readily down into the messy wetness of his vent. McCree sucks in a breath. The skin there looks so wet, soft and more malleable than the rest of him. It’s a startling pink, too, something that seems obscene against the firm navy of the rest of him. McCree wonders if he could work a couple fingers in there next to the fat cock on display, maybe play with it as it retreated after a job well done. Give it a kiss goodbye. 

 

McCree groans and violently hunches over Hanzo’s snout when the dragon tugs him closer with his dangerous tongue. The very tip of him has slipped back beneath McCree’s balls and is playing with his taint, now, the delicate forked end flicking through his body hair while the vast length of Hanzo’s tongue squeezes him tight.

 

“C-c’mon now,” McCree begs. “Let me get a hand on you, sweetheart. Just a lil bit. I won’t tell nobody.”

 

Hanzo arches a brow at him somehow, ridicules him with one golden eye before drawing him even closer to his mouth. There’s a long, slithering moment where McCree can barely breathe, and then Hanzo has unwrapped his tongue from around McCree entirely, and is settling back with a content rumble into the pile of pillows and bedding he’s shoved onto the floor.

 

The room is getting hot, now. McCree is sweating, and Hanzo’s breathing is labored. The windows are slightly fogged. 

 

Instead, he walks, hitch in his step, to linger by Hanzo’s legs. He gently pushes one massive hind leg out of the way. The position makes Hanzo roll further onto his back, and the reptile shimmies his spine to get comfortable. In the end, his legs are splayed awkwardly, one foot on either wall, his tail curling around the room. McCree hovers between his legs, one hand on either side of Hanzo’s goods. He absentmindedly massages at the swell of muscle making up the base of Hanzo’s tail, smiling at the pleased rumble it gets him.

 

“Damn,” McCree murmurs.  “Wish I’d seen this sooner.” Hanzo’s leg twitches, one clawed foot nearly knocking a lamp over. It teeters dangerously for a moment, and McCree takes the second of disorientation to make a decision: reaching out, he wraps one hand around the wide base of Hanzo’s cock and squeezes.

 

The length of it is easily as big as McCree’s forearm, perhaps thicker than his bicep at the base. There’s no way he could take all of it. But the head isn’t too intimidating, perhaps even...more than manageable. McCree licks his lips. 

 

He looks back at Hanzo. “I hope you know by now that I’m a curious mind, Hanzo. I’ve got a bit of exploring to do. Tell me if something really clods your hoppers, okay?”

  
  


McCree jerks him off slow and sloppy. Hanzo wiggles under him, rolling his hips in a way that forces McCree to move out of the way or else be crushed. It’s still, somehow, stupidly attractive. 

 

“We have to talk about this later, you get that, right?” McCree says, hands still working. He’s using both to make a slick tunnel around Hanzo’s cock. “You can’t just--” he grunts when a spurt of precum hits him in the face. “ _ Damn.  _ You can’t just be able to turn into a dragon and not say anything to me.”

 

Hanzo rumbles, but it’s a weak reply, incoherent and appeasing. When McCree glances around the rounded bulk of Hanzo’s draconic body, Hanzo’s golden eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. His breath steams slightly in the muggy air of the bedroom. 

 

McCree pulls back, licking his fingers clean of  _ literal goddamned dragon semen _ absentmindedly. He sidles to the window, a wide thing that only slides up a few inches. Outside the glass the sky is a dark, rumbling gray. The same rolling clouds that greeted them during their flight are in full movement now, rushing past the comm tower with purpose. McCree takes a moment at the window to stare at the storm.

 

“Good weather to be inside,” McCree murmurs. Hanzo makes a noise of agreement behind him-- much closer than McCree’d anticipated. When he turns around, Hanzo’s massive snout is right against him, pressed into his shoulder. Hanzo nips at McCree’s hip and stretches one forearm out to reach for him, claws curled protectively.

 

Hanzo is starting to look downright sedate now, his eyes soft and shy. A thin breeze shifts through the window and makes McCree shiver, sweaty as he is. He lets out a long breath and relaxes into the scaled circle of Hanzo’s arms. He can feel Hanzo shifting around him, his body the size of a car and just as powerful. When McCree pulls away from Hanzo’s hold, the dragon lets him go easily, rolls onto his back and bares himself for McCree’s gaze.

 

Hanzo is the definition of overwhelming. His cock is huge and glistening like some kind of sapphire prize. When McCree settles into the crook of Hanzo’s legs and sucks happily along the length of it, digs his thumb into the hard base, it spits pre onto his palate, bitter and thick. The little bulge below Hanzo’s cock has grown. Where McCree first thought it was something akin to testicles-- after all, how much can a cowboy  _ really  _ be expected to know about dragon anatomy, honestly?-- the little growth has instead slipped out of Hanzo’s slit further, elongating and filling out in a messy slide. It’s a second cock, curved like the first and just as desperate, if a bit smaller.

 

“Now ain’t that a sight,” McCree purrs, massaging around Hanzo’s slit with his palms while he thinks of what to do. Hanzo whines, leg twitching as if the urge to hide himself has reared its head again. 

 

McCree leans in low, hovers above the second dick. It’s a little smaller-- more manageable, one might say. He pauses for a moment, breathing humidly over the smaller cock, before closing his eyes and dipping forward. He sucks gently, pulling the length in with slow slurps and gentle pressure. Hanzo groans above him, rolling his spine until McCree nearly chokes on his task. 

 

“Quit it,” McCree chastises, pinching Hanzo’s huge blue thigh. The skin is leathery and smooth under his fingers. “I’m trying to work.” He laughs when Hanzo abruptly goes still, as if he’s afraid McCree will  _ actually  _ stop in the middle of this. “Oh, c’mon, I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” He kisses the crown of Hanzo’s cock. “Or you.” And then the smaller one. “Or you.  _ Definitely  _ not you.” 

 

Hanzo kicks at him with one giant clawed foot. The kick is gentle, but it knocks McCree over, and it takes him a minute to right himself. 

 

“For pete’s sake, Han, we  _ just  _ went over how delicate I am.”

 

Hanzo’s laugh is a deep rumble. It echoes the thunder outside, clearer now that the window is open. McCree glances over and sees that a few sheets of rain have started to hit the glass, splashing gently on their windowsill.

 

Hanzo shifts McCree over a bit and rolls over on his side, stretches out lazily and purrs when McCree pets up and down the curve of his hip. 

 

“Feelin’ good, huh?” McCree laughs, his voice slightly breathless. “Good. Did you know I always wanted to ride a dragon”

 

Hanzo’s head jerks up at the declaration, and the dragon stares at him incredulously, nostrils flaring. 

 

“Hell yeah. Horses were never enough for me, as a kid. I always wanted to meet the sky.”

 

McCree shifts his petting lower and lower, watching hungrily as Hanzo’s pupils drop to slits. They leave only a molten gold behind, bright and dangerous. It makes something in McCree’s stomach jump hungrily. 

 

McCree climbs in front of Hanzo. It’s awkward, with Hanzo on his side, but McCree is fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to balance himself enough to stay seated if Hanzo was on his back. Instead, McCree settles on hands and knees and presses his side into Hanzo’s belly, rubbing his shoulder over the soft, smooth scales of his underside. He can feel Hanzo’s length poking his lower back, the huge front cock dripping down onto the floor. 

 

Hanzo growls and shifts his hips, rumbling in anticipation. He flexes his claws and drops his chin to the floor, snorting into the tile. 

 

McCree shifts backwards until he can feel Hanzo’s giant cock pressing up against the back of his thighs. The tip is tapered, and it pokes delicately between McCree’s cheeks. With a huff, Hanzo wiggles until he’s pressing in with a very little bit of that very massive cock.

 

Immediately, Hanzo’s cock slips up and away, spreading slick over the small of McCree’s back. Hanzo growls in frustration, but McCree just laughs, rearranging himself. He gives Hanzo a stroke before guiding him between his thighs, sighing when Hanzo rolls his hips in a tentative thrust.

 

The angle should be awkward. Hanzo is on his side, McCree is on his hands and knees. McCree nearly falls over a couple times from how jostled he is when Hanzo shifts. And all the time, that second cock teases him, just barely slipping against his hole when Hanzo’s hips meet McCree’s. McCree moans and grinds back on him. Hanzo’s giant cock slips against his own, sliding over the swell of his balls and forcing its way between his clenched thighs. It’s nice, but it’s not quite enough to get him off. McCree wants that second cock. 

 

“Hey, stop. Stop.” McCree shuffles backwards. “I’ve got an idea. You’re gonna like it.” He’s practically straddling Hanzo’s huge cock at this point. It sits fat and slippery between his legs, makes him want to shift and squeeze his thighs together to just hear Hanzo react. He reaches down with both hands, makes a tight tunnel to stroke Hanzo with. True to his imagination, Hanzo groans and huffs heavily into the sparse tile floor their tiny bedroom. A crack of lightning illuminates the room, and McCree jumps, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of Hanzo’s cock. The reaction is instantaneous: Hanzo growls and pistons his hips, shoving McCree forwards as if McCree is riding a mechanical bull. 

 

McCree pants with anticipation and a little bit of exertion. His body shakes as he fumbles behind himself. It’s a struggle to keep his thighs tight  _ and  _ balance while trying to find-- ah, there it is. Hanzo’s second cock curves perfectly in his hand, smooth as Hanzo’s belly scales and slippery to the touch. Hanzo makes a sweet little noise when McCree strokes it, something between a croon and a whimper.

 

“Sensitive?” McCree laughs, petting one finger down the tapered length of him. The giant cock between his thighs jerks when he does, precum sliding down the scaled shaft to smear tackily in McCree’s leg hair. “Good.”

 

McCree sucks in a breath when the very tip of Hanzo’s cock breaches him. He’s not loose by any means, hasn’t stretched out enough, but the burn is waylaid by the ridiculous amount of precum pouring out of the cock inside him. Something in it is warming, makes him a little bit dizzy. McCree groans and drops his head, cants his hips and props one arm on Hanzo’s scaled belly. He can feel Hanzo’s chest rising and falling as the dragon takes in huge quantities of air, holding as still as he can while McCree seats himself. 

 

Hanzo is so still that for a moment McCree very nearly worries he’s stepped past some boundary they’d never even gotten a chance to discuss. But when he looks up, Hanzo’s eyes are nearly closed, his maw open and just the tip of his tongue lolling out in pleasure. McCree grunts and shifts between Hanzo’s legs and feels the the long, ridged length of him twitch inside him. 

 

“Time to move, sugar,” McCree goans. His palms are sweaty, blunt nails barely making a dent in the thick surface of Hanzo’s hide. He gathers all his strength in his shaking legs and leans into the curve of Hanzo’s stomach, rubbing himself along the round of his belly while he forces Hanzo’s cock further inside himself. 

 

It’s different than when they fuck when Hanzo’s human, and McCree is half of a mind to say something about asking for another opportunity to try things out when he realises it might be a bit rude. Did Hanzo even transform on purpose? 

 

He doesn’t have a chance to ask, because Hanzo is suddenly moving behind him, restlessly shifting a few inches this way and that. His long tail whips along the floor, sending the rug into disarray and knocking over stray piles of odds and ends. Just as McCree turns to see how Hanzo’s doing, a long, clawed hand settles between McCree’s shoulder blades and presses him down.

 

McCree resists at first; when he realises what Hanzo’s trying to do, he laughs breathlessly and drops his hips a little lower, presses into Hanzo’s movements. It pushes the curved length further in, ridge by ridge, until McCree can feel the slick warmth of Hanzo’s vent pressed against his cheeks. The soft, wet folds of it smear along McCree’s own opening, leaving him slick and sticky. 

 

Their movements are slow, awkward: Hanzo is too big to move easily, and McCree is so overwhelmed by the dual sensations of a cock between his thighs and inside him that he can’t really coordinate his limbs. He moves jerkily along Hanzo’s cocks, trying his best to sneak in a hand for himself now and then, too. Hanzo looks out of it when McCree checks on his face again. The dragon’s head is rolled back, antlers digging into the floor, mouth open while Hanzo huffs heavily and grumbles at every movement. Outside, the storm rages heavier than ever. Rainwater drips down the wall, staining the paint dark and leaving a puddle on the floor. It trickles towards their overheated bodies and leaves a mark on the rug. 

 

Another peal of thunder cracks outside. McCree jumps as Hanzo snarls at the lightning, then moans headily as the actions causes his hips to jump. Hanzo’s tail thrashes and the force of his rolling spine nearly throws McCree off his cock entirely. 

 

Hanzo rolls his hips wildly, cocks so slick that McCree can barely keep a hand on them. The one inside him thickens even as he struggles to bear down on it, until the burning at McCree’s rim make him pause, limbs loose with pleasure. He drops his head, hand scrabbling at Hanzo’s side. Hanzo’s chest rises and falls rapidly, lungs taking in as much air as they can manage. Hanzo’s eyes, when McCree looks up at them searchingly, are barely open, his gaze vacant. McCree moans and bears down, presses with all his weight into the flexing length of Hanzo’s cock. Between his thighs, the fat, ridged crown of Hanzo’s cock spits relentlessly, drooling precum down to the floor and making an unholy mess. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” McCree hisses. There’s something stopping him from sliding down on the last inch of Hanzo’s cock. It flares just a bit too quickly, firm and throbbing at his rim. McCree flexes, clenches, and pushes just a little bit harder, determined to take it. He can feel Hanzo glowing hot behind him, just that small distance away from flush with his back. He struggles, pauses, takes a deep breath-- then yelps as Hanzo lets out an irritated growl and pushes his hips flat against McCree’s back. 

 

The last, throbbing bulk of him seated, McCree sighs and drops to the floor. All his strength has deserted him, leaving him loose-limbed and horribly, awfully desperate. Hanzo’s clawed fingers lightly scratch at his back, as if...petting him? McCree looks up.

  
Hanzo’s eyes are closed, his jaw clenched tight. His nostrils flare, and as McCree watches, the dragon’s breath rumbles alongside the storm outside like a tenor melody he can’t follow. He looks like he’s barely holding on, the set of his draconic shoulders tense, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. McCree feels more than sees his leg twitch as Hanzo resists the urge to dig his toes into the floor and  _ mount  _ him. 

 

“Please,” McCree grunts out, leaning on Hanzo’s bulk and reaching down between his legs to jerk himself off. His cock, thick as it is, looks tiny next to Hanzo’s alien blue girth. 

 

The single syllable is enough to spur Hanzo into action. The dragon rolls them over, pressing all the air out of McCree’s lungs in a single motion. McCree grits his teeth and braces himself against the floor as Hanzo moves in tiny, forceful thrusts, rocking into the clutch of his hole and snarling when McCree tightens up on him.

 

“Too much, too much,” McCree chokes out, gasping as the knot pulls against his rim. The bigger cock between his hairy thighs twitches and throbs at every rough tug, sliding against McCree’s balls and pushing him across the floor. Books and trinkets fall off shelves as Hanzo thrashes against McCree’s back, pushing him into the carpet without a thought to the racket he’s making. 

 

McCree comes without a thought, the orgasm practically punched out of him as Hanzo’s knot presses against his prostate relentlessly. McCree is so out of it, so cum-drunk and dazed, that he nearly misses the look of prolonged ecstasy on Hanzo’s face when the dragon finally finishes. But, Jesus, he  _ feels  _ it: he’s filled up with a thick rush of cum, but more than that-- god, more than that is the thick, creamy ropes of the stuff that gush out of Hanzo’s throbbing front cock, coating McCree’s thighs and the floor in a slick, pearly puddle. 

 

Hanzo stops moving, huffing like a train. His tongue flicks out into the air, tasting the filth in the very atmosphere of their bedroom. His golden eyes look around as if seeing for  the first time; they take in the overturned shelf, the torn carpet-- and small, human Jesse, weakly spasming under him as the hot load of cum Hanzo’s just released fills him up to the brim. Cum and stormwater mix in pearly rivulets on the floor; neither of them are going to want to deal with that later, but at the moment, all McCree can think about is soaking himself in the mess so that Hanzo will have to lick him clean.

 

When it’s all over, McCree can’t quite remember how long he spends speared on Hanzo’s cock. He can’t honestly say when Hanzo pulls out, when Hanzo scoops him up with one scaley arm and pulls him closer so that he’s laying sprawled out on Hanzo’s huffing chest, the storm raging just outside their window. He can’t remember closing the panes, or wiping Hanzo off with a stray towel from one of the piles of laundry he knocked over in his thrashing. He can’t even remember when the storm ended, or when Hanzo finally returned to his human skin-- or if the two had anything to do with each other. 

 

No, the only thing McCree can remember, when it’s all over, is how sore he is-- and how desperately he wanted it to happen again.

 

There was a joke on the very tip of his very tired brain. Something about dragons being sated. And judging by the way Hanzo's tattoo glowed ever so slightly in the moonless night, he'd have to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was inspired by my Literal Dragon Hanzo tag on tumblr. You can find my nsfw blog at hhgggx.tumblr.com!! I post polls, ficlets, and lots of possum pics so it's always a good day to browse my nonsense. Thanks for reading!


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